Dramione
by flmofrecca
Summary: An Advanced Divinations assignment leads Hermione to uncover an unexpected future that might change relationships in the present.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own imagination.

Chapter 1

Hermione sat on the edge of her bed staring into the murky brown contents of her teacup. She picked at the frilly lace on the sleeve of her pristine white nightgown. She had never been so nervous in her life. Today in Advanced Divinations they had all brewed a potion that would make them dream about their future, literally. Ron had been really excited about it, and throughout the day Harry and Hermione had to listen to him spouting off all his possible futures. As good of a friend Hermione was, she frankly didn't give a whit what Ron's future had in store for him. She was too worried about her own future to be a supportive friend today.

"Maybe I'll be a famous Quidditch player on the Chudley Cannons, or an Auror—or, or a famous Quidditch player!"

Hermione suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at this memory. She wished she could be that excited about revealing her own future. She had no idea what she wanted to do; honestly, she excelled in all her classes, and the prospect of fencing all of her potential into one profession made her feel more than a little queasy. The tea she was about to drink would demystify her future. Funny how one dream would have the power to tear all her other dreams into little bits and pieces suitable for making spitballs. Hermione sighed. Summoning the courage Gryffindors were famous for, Hermione downed the tea in one gulp. She felt like she had just signed her own death warrant.

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_Hermione stood in a large kitchen flipping pancakes and whistling softly to herself. Warm sunlight filtered through the open window in front of her, turning the wild tumble of her russet curls momentarily golden. She smiled as she saw her chubby daughter run across the lawn, her pale unbound mane bouncing along with her. Hearing a slight movement behind her, Hermione chuckled and said, "Good morning handsome," just as strong pale arms slid around her curves to hug her from behind. _

"_Good morning to you too," he chuckled as he turned her around. He drank in the sight of her wild hair, the smudge of flour under her right eye, the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose the sunlight brought out too well, and the welcoming smile that washed over him, tickling him. Oh, that was her hair. He tucked the stray curl behind her ear, but to no avail as another soft breeze fluttered in through the window causing the curl to caress his cheek as before. "You look like a million galleons." _

_Hermione playfully swatted away the hand that had slowly been making its way South down her back. The hand returned before she could celebrate her small victory, and she gasped as her husband swooped in for a breathtaking kiss. _

_Hermione's senses were overwhelmed as she unconsciously leaned into him. Her hands were filled with his silky blonde hair, the soft breeze whispered by mindful of the lovers, and her delicate nostrils flared as the acrid smell of burning pancakes wafted by on the breeze. Hermione immediately broke away and turned to survey the damage. He grumbled in protest, but started laughing when he saw his breakfast. The black circles stared up at them, their burnt remains evidence of neglect. Hermione sighed just as her husband yelled out the window, "Dramione, time for breakfast!" _

_Hermione turned around and immediately wiped away the flour under his left eye when she noticed it. Pretending to be angry, she tapped her foot, crossed her arms, and said in her most haughty know-it-all tone, "Come on Draco, you know she hates that nickname!" _


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own imagination.

Chapter 2

_"Come on Draco, you know she hates that nickname!"_

Her own words echoed in her head as she sat up in her bed and clung to the bedpost for support. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy—to be married, to have a child for goodness sake! Hermione blushed a fetching red as she realized exactly what the implication of having a daughter with Draco Malfoy meant. That meant that eventually they would have to—they would have to—oh dear! Feeling extremely immature, she tried to put _those _thoughts and images from her mind.

Hermione considered for a moment the possibility of the tea being at fault, but quickly dismissed that idea. After all, she had prepared it herself, and Hermione most certainly did not make mistakes!

Hermione shook her head slowly as she thought about it. Malfoy and herself. Draco Malfoy. The pureblood racist who took every opportunity to remind her of the mudblood running in her veins. The boy who worshipped his father who was a miserable excuse for a wizard, a waste of Oxygen, and probably a member of Voldemort's closest ring. The boy who would probably follow in his father's footsteps and gladly receive the Dark Mark. As these thoughts zoomed through her mind, Hermione shook her head faster and faster. She knew she was in for a huge migraine later on. She had to stop. Think of the positive.

Okay... where to start? His looks. As much as Hermione despised Malfoy, it was undeniable he had the face of an angel (a fallen one at that), and the body of a construction worker—or Quidditch seeker. He was the boy the female-half of Hogwarts was going crazy over. And he was intelligent. She would never let that oversized ego of his know, but Hermione considered Malfoy her biggest academic rival. And he was godly at flying. Sure, Harry had speed and determination, but Malfoy had speed and determination plus confidence and grace. Somehow, Malfoy seemed to sit straighter than anyone else Hermione had ever seen on a broom. He was elegance to the T. Every time there was a Gryffindor vs. Slytherin quidditch match, Hermione felt like a kid waking up on Christmas morning. She would get the chance to openly ogle Malfoy soaring through the sky. She loved to watch the wind ruffle his platinum hair to perfect non-perfection. Loved his daring swoops and cocky grin. Malfoy was a priceless work of art on a broom. But that was Malfoy in the air, at a distance. Up close and around her, he was nasty, always a sneer on his face and a snide comment at the ready.

Suddenly, it occurred to her to wonder what Malfoy had dreamed about. What if he had dreamed the same dream? What if he also knew that one day they would be married and procreate? Her cheeks flamed once again at this thought. More importantly, what would she tell Harry and Ron when they asked what she had dreamed about?

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Harry plopped down next to Hermione, concern written all over his face. "Hermione, what's wrong? We didn't see you at breakfast this morning?"

Looking up from her book, Hermione answered as nonchalantly as she could, "I had some studying to catch up on. I didn't have time to make it down to the Great Hall."

Harry immediately knew she was lying. Her eyes had wandered all over his face but never to his eyes when she had answered him. Her fingers were fidgeting nervously with the worn corners of the book in front of her. Lastly, even though it was a plausible excuse, her voice had quavered a little towards the beginning. To put it nicely, Hermione was a horrible liar. Deciding not to push it and knowing she would tell him the truth in time, Harry changed the subject.

"Ron was so excited this morning at breakfast…" Harry continued talking, but Hermione wasn't listening. The truth was, she didn't think she'd be able to keep her breakfast in her stomach for long, so Hermione had spent breakfast time practicing the lies she would tell today in front of the mirror. Harry hadn't asked her any more questions about her absence at breakfast, so Hermione knew she had successfully pulled off her first lie. She was proud of herself, but then immediately sobered as she realized she had just taken advantage of her friend's trust.

"You're chewing your bottom lip; you're thinking and not listening to me. Did you hear a word I said?" Harry's voice wafted by, scattering her thoughts.

"Of course I was listening!" Hermione reproached him indignantly! Another lie.

"So… then tell me what you dreamed about."

"She dreamed about me." Malfoy had unknowingly sidled up to them, a self-congratulatory smirk plastered on his face. "As she does every night," he added as an afterthought. The Slytherins nearby sniggered when they heard this.

Hermione felt like her cheeks were hot enough to boil water. She didn't dare look at Malfoy or say a word. Did he know? Did that mean he had dreamed the same thing? Or was he just bluffing? It was hard to tell with Malfoy, everything he said and did exuded confidence and cockiness.

"Oh sod off!" Harry bristled, standing up.

"Class! Class! Settle down. It's time to start." The professor stood at her desk tapping her wand against her #1 Teacher mug as if making a toast.

"Jealous? No need to get your panties in a twist, Potty. I wouldn't touch that filth even if I was under the Imperius." All the Slytherins burst into gales of laughter. Draco smirked, then made his way to his desk. He was pleased that he got the last word.

"Don't listen to what that snake just said. He just wants to get under your skin," Harry whispered to Hermione. Then under his breath he added, "He always gets the last word!"

Hermione nodded dumbly and pretended to take interest in the textbook in front of her. Did Malfoy know?

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	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own imagination

Chapter 3

From the other side of the room, Draco watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye. Her head was still buried in her book, as if she every second of her precious time had to be spent studying. More importantly, her head was still buried in her book as if he hadn't delivered his scathing comment at all! The fact that Hermione had been unprovoked by his snide comment had thrown him way off track. His remarks had never before gone unnoticed and unchallenged by Hermione. She never failed to turn her freckled nose up and deliver a scorching comeback. Until now. This silence was even worse than the time she slapped him. He still remembered the mixture of feelings that had swarmed in his head right after. That slap had caused his anger, pride, and shockingly, his libido to rise. This silence was disappointing. No. This silence was stunning. Yes. This silence was deafening. Something was wrong and he was going to find out exactly what it was. He wanted his sparring partner back.

Draco was startled out of his reverie as the professor began class.

"Alright, now how did the tea work out for everyone?" The professor inquired. A few mumbles and grumbles and excited whispers traveled through the room. "Would anyone like to share their future with the class?"

Just then Ron practically skipped into the room. "I would!" His obvious excitement caused the professor to forget to deduct points from Gryffindor for his tardiness. Neville, sitting in the front row, shrank back instinctively as Ron sailed past his desk, causing his papers to fly everywhere. Before Draco could congratulate Ron on making a mess, Ron blurted out, "I'm going to be a famous quidditch player on the Chudley Cannons!"

The room erupted into chaos. All of the Gryffindors cheered and swarmed around Ron to offer him their heartfelt congratulations. Draco heard Hermione exclaim, "That's great, Ron!" Right on cue, Neville began to whiz around the crowd, frantically snapping pictures of Ron's housemates patting him on the back. The Slytherins hissed and looked to their leader in hopes of inspiration on how to react. Never one to disappoint his house, Draco drawled loud enough to be heard through the shouts and cheers, "What? I'm surprised. No dreams of the bushy haired mudblood and a gaggle of your squibs?"

Hermione ducked her head and blushed madly. Maybe Malfoy didn't know.

Ron also blushed, turning as red as his hair. His embarrassment left him to open and close his mouth stupidly, like a dying fish. He wished he were dying. He wished he could apparate out of class. Anywhere would be preferable to here.

Harry took Hermione's bent head as a sign of distress. Ron was busy looking like a ripe tomato, so it fell on his shoulders to comfort her. Harry patted her shoulders awkwardly and shot Malfoy a dirty look. "Don't worry, Hermione! Just because Ron didn't dream of you doesn't mean that someday the two of you will… er…you know." He finished lamely. Harry didn't think it was possible, but Ron turned even redder. Realizing he was making things worse, he decided to attack the prat who put him in this uncomfortable position.

Facing Malfoy, Harry yelled, "At least he's not going to become a Death Eater like you will!"

Silence and tension spread throughout the room at the speed of light. The Slytherins tensed up to the point where they thought their muscles would snap. The Gryffindors took a collective breath in and waited for Malfoy's reply. Harry knew he had gone too far this time.

Draco had been waiting all day for this. He knew people would question what he had dreamed about. After all, what student in Hogwarts didn't want to gossip about this Slytherin sex God? His reply was smooth and silky, at complete odds with the atmosphere in the room. "Actually, the only thing that happened to me last night was I had to get up to take a long piss. That tea was something, eh?" With that, he playfully elbowed Goyle in the ribs to signify he had told a joke. The Slytherins all burst out in gales of forced laughter as they all inwardly sighed with relief. The Gryffindors shuffled about uncomfortably, wondering if they should be disappointed with how well Malfoy had handled the question.

Harry felt defeated.

Ron was still embarrassed.

Hermione felt like screaming. There was no way in Azkaban she was going to marry a Death Eater.

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	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own imagination

Chapter 4

The truth was, absolutely nothing had happened to Draco that night. He didn't drink the tea. He didn't have to get up to go to the bathroom. He didn't dream. Draco figured he already knew what the future had in store for him. Even though his father was currently a guest at Azkaban, Draco would never be far enough away from the clutches of his father's influence. Till death would they part. Sadly, he had come to terms with his own fate a long time ago. But just because he knew he was going to become a Death Eater didn't mean he had to like it. That's why Draco didn't drink the tea. The way he saw it was, why would anyone purposefully choose to have nightmares?

This whole seeing your future thing was a heap of rubbish anyways. He had heard that Hannah girl had dreamed she was a mediwitch. Now that she knew that, would she intentionally change all her interests in favor of pursuing a career in mediwizardry? He had also heard she was really into Transfigurations. Would she drop her present like a burning coal for her future? What if she had brewed the tea incorrectly and believed mediwizardry was her future when it really wasn't? Would that change her future?

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. All this thinking was making his head hurt. It didn't matter anyways; Draco wasn't planning on drinking the tea. He scoffed when he remembered hearing that scrawny boy with the camera would become a photographer for the Daily Prophet. That bit of news had been a waste of his time; the whole school already knew the only thing that boy was good at was photography. He had also heard that Granger didn't have a dream at all. Her two minions scarhead and poorboy may have easily accepted this, but Draco wasn't so easily fooled. As far as he was concerned, Granger never made mistakes. Curious, Draco wondered what Granger could have dreamed about to cause her to lie to those idiots she called friends.

His stomach grumbled. Glancing at his watch, he cursed when he realized dinner time was almost over. His useless followers would be wondering where he was. He sighed as he realized he hadn't even started on his homework, as he had intended. He knew it was childish, but he closed the open book in front of him with a slam as an attempt to relieve some of his anger. The few occupants in the library all sent him their own variation of irritated looks, but when they realized it was Draco Malfoy they were rudely staring at, quickly enough, they all abashedly shoved their heads back into their books. Draco sneered. This was the kind of power he loved.

Gathering the last of his things, he made his way to the exit. Right when he reached out a hand to pull the door open, the door swung open violently as if by its own volition. To say the door slapped him in the face would be an understatement. Somehow, the door had knocked the wind out of him, and caused him to fly backwards a few feet and land ungracefully on his arse. It felt like he had actually bounced a little. His eyes wildly roved the secluded entrance hall to the library, madly searching for his attacker. Finally, they settled on the backside of a girl with long russet curls. Even in his state of bewilderment, Draco couldn't help but appreciate the nice view. It was then he realized it was the bushy haired mudblood.

"G-GRANGER!" He yelled in a voice that was slightly high-pitched and not entirely steady.

Hermione quickly turned around, eyes wide open. The tall stack of books she struggled to lift in her arms wobbled dangerously, threatening to spill onto a very agitated Malfoy. The heap of books blocked her view, but she recognized the seething voice instantly. She assessed the situation quickly. Her arms were filled with books, so she had been forced to push the library door open with her back. Malfoy must have been on the other side of the door, and her gentle push must have hit him somehow. She craned her neck to stare at him from around her tall pile of books and dropped her jaw at the sight before her.

Hermione was flabbergasted; Malfoy was disheveled! His legs were sprawled out in front of him in what looked like an uncomfortable position. His robes were horribly askew, and somehow his tie had managed to escape its confines, threatening to choke him. His face was livid. His normally alabaster complexion sported two angry red splotches on either of his cheeks. Those grey eyes of his looked murderous. He was glaring at her in the most evil manner, and he looked like he was in pain. Immediately, guilt flooded through Hermione. Setting her books aside, she scrambled to help him up.

As soon as Draco realized she was advancing, he snarled, "Don't touch me, mudblood!" Then he winced. Something was poking him most painfully somewhere he would rather not name.

Hermione instantly halted, the hated nickname bringing her out of her guilt-induced trance. Merlin! She felt horrible. She wanted to help him because it was all her fault, but he apparently wanted none of that. Deciding to do as she was told, she watched with interest and growing horror as he delicately lifted himself up a little and carefully extricated his wand from underneath him. He muttered an oath of relief as the pain immediately subsided.

Draco tried to get up, but for some reason, he couldn't. He closed his eyes momentarily and decided this had to be the worst day of his life. When he opened his eyes again, Granger was looking at him with pity evident in her big brown eyes. Yep. Definitely the worst day of his life. And now he was going to have to ask for help from a mudblood.

"Help me… help me up" he said in a tight strangled voice.

Still feeling immensely guilty, Hermione was relieved that she could be of some use to him. She hastened to help him up.

As soon as he was standing on his feet again, Draco shoved her away. "Get off of me!"

Stumbling a little, Hermione defensively yelled back, "You asked me to help you, you slimy git; don't yell at me for doing as I was told!" If Malfoy was this touchy about touching… Hermione started blushing madly as she inadvertently recalled their child from the dream. She faltered a little in her rush to put distance between the two of them.

Draco watched as before his eyes, Hermione seemed to lose all her anger and self-confidence in one fell swoop. She looked like she was going to be sick.

"Granger?" He asked tentatively. He wasn't concerned; he just didn't want her to throw up all over him.

At the sound of her name, Hermione looked up, and meeting his grey eyes for a fleeting second, her mind screamed _husbandhusbandhusband_! Turning even redder, she turned around and fled.

That was very strange and uncharacteristic of Granger, Draco mused. As he gathered his things for the second time, he replayed the scene back in his head. She was yelling at him for being such a slimy git—something like that—and then all of a sudden everything had changed. She had bowed her head, and started blushed madly. When he said her name, her nervous brown eyes had only held his for one second before she ran away.

Suddenly, Draco grinned. The day was looking better; he felt a change in the wind. Why, if he didn't know any better, he'd think Hermione Granger had a crush on him!

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	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own imagination

Chapter 5

"Are you trying to tell me that Draco Malfoy actually had to pull his wand out of his arse!" Ron yelled, in disbelief.

Hermione winced, but mutely nodded imperceptibly, all too aware of the scene they were causing in the Great Hall. That was all the confirmation they needed.

Harry and Ron burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"I always knew that Malfoy had a stick shoved up his arse, but I never imagined it'd be his own wand!" Harry managed to add this comment before the laughter overtook him again.

"That fudge packer probably couldn't get any, so he had to use his own wand for Merlin's sakes!" Ron added between guffaws.

"I always thought the tip of his wand looked a little brown!" Harry doubled over as waves of laughter rolled through him again.

Hermione allowed herself a tiny giggle before she chastised the boys. "Shhh! Keep it down! I don't want Malfoy to think I'm spreading rumors about him swinging the other way!" To her dismay, Hermione realized it was too late. She watched as the whispers swiftly spread down the Gryffindor table. She knew that within minutes, the nasty rumor would reach the ears of none other but Draco Malfoy himself. She definitely didn't want to be there when that happened. Shoving away her half-eaten breakfast, Hermione glared at Harry and Ron. "I'm going to the library," she said in her nastiest tone. They ignored her, of course. Those dimwitted idiots she called friends were still laughing their heads off. Hermione secretly hoped they would choke on their breakfast. This was entirely their fault.

Draco Malfoy was in a good mood. He was eating breakfast, routinely shutting out Pansy's endless prattle about her plans for the summer. He had much more important things to think about. For example, Granger. The unattainable bushy haired mudblood virgin princess know-it-all bookworm had finally fallen, and for him! He wouldn't hesitate to jump for joy if he had the reassurance that his fellow Slytherins wouldn't send him to St. Mungo's. Oh, it's not like he liked the cow; he liked the power. He now had the key to controlling Granger, and to Draco, control was everything. All he had to do now was figure out exactly what he was going to do to use this leverage to his advantage.

Remembering Pansy, Draco looked up to show her he was paying attention when he noticed her lips weren't moving, and her eyes were staring at him in horror. That's when the noise broke through his carefully constructed dam of silence, threatening to drown him in its sheer earsplitting quantity. Finally adjusting to this rude intrusion, Draco realized three quarters of the Great Hall was laughing uproariously. The silence rolling off the Slytherins was all too tale telling. Something was wrong. And just as he was about to ask Pansy what was going on, his head cracked to the left as Pansy delivered a vicious slap.

"How could you!" She wailed.

His ears were ringing from the slap, but he could still hear the deathly silence that had filled the Great Hall. Every eyeball was now turned towards him—fearful, yet eager nonetheless for his reaction.

His father would have killed Pansy right then and there. The younger Draco would have flew into a violent rage, screaming intelligibly and throwing everything in sight. Draco did neither as he stared at Pansy for a long second, then stiffly walked away, the pink handprint still burning on his right cheek.

On the outside, Draco looked calm and composed, but inwardly he was seething. How dare Pansy slap him in front of all of Hogwarts! He didn't even know what he had done wrong! And Merlin! The emotion in her eyes when she had slapped him. She had looked as if she had caught him cheating on her. They weren't even together; sure he had shagged her more than a few times, but she knew that didn't mean anything to him.

In his state of confusion, Draco's feet had turned on autopilot, taking him to the library instead of his room as he had expected. Still on autopilot, he pushed the door open automatically and almost ran over Hermione.

"Granger." He nodded his head stiffly in acknowledgement and moved to walk past her.

Hermione gasped. The faint outline of a slender hand marred his pale perfection. Who had slapped Malfoy! Instinctively, as one would reach out to a wounded animal, Hermione touched the handprint tentatively in wonder. "What—What happened?" She whispered.

Her fingertips felt wonderfully cool against his burning skin.

"I was hoping you could tell me that," Draco said in an empty voice. At her questioning look, he said, "I guess you weren't there. Pansy slapped me."

Hermione's quick mind rapidly put two and two together. She had heard Parkinson and Malfoy were lovers. Pansy must have heard the rumor and slapped Malfoy in her rage. Hermione blanched as she realized it was all her fault; after all, however unintentionally, she had started the cruel rumor. Hermione's brown eyes flew to his dazed grey ones, guilt flooding their coffee-colored depths.

Draco's glazed eyes immediately focused, sharpening on those in front of him. If Granger was the cause of this, there was going to be hell to pay.

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	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own imagination

Chapter 6

Hermione yelped in surprise as Malfoy grabbed her arm and dragged her back into the library.

"What is the meaning of this Malfoy? Let go of me! Where are you taking me? Let go of me, you prat!"

Throwing a threatening glare over the back of his shoulder, Draco tightened his grip on her arm, thereby effectively silencing her.

Seeing as Malfoy was not in the mood to talk, Hermione had no choice but to drag her feet and follow him. Hermione winced and scowled at the back of Malfoy's head. She was going to have bruises tomorrow, she knew it. She was still glaring daggers at Malfoy's head and mumbling incoherent obscenities when she tripped on something and stumbled into Malfoy. After righting herself, Hermione grinned sheepishly at Malfoy, embarrassed. However, her grin immediately melted into a scowl that mirrored the one on Malfoy's face. Running out of insults, they continued on in silence, each left to the privacy of their thoughts.

Hermione didn't know why she was following the prat anyways. The grip on her arm had lessened to a bearable degree, and she was sure she could break free if she tried hard enough. Obviously, Malfoy wanted to take her somewhere private before she told him what happened in the Great Hall. Whereas Hermione was reluctant to do so, she felt like she owed it to Malfoy. After all, it was her fault. Taking in her surroundings for the first time since they began their journey, Hermione was shocked to discover they were in a part of the library she had never visited before. And that was saying much. She had thought she had examined every inch of the Hogwarts Library by the time she had finished first year, but apparently, she was wrong. Hermione's eyes widened when she noted with fascination that the books lining the shelves were ancient. Their pages were almost black with age, the spines were lined with wrinkles, and the covers were so worn, most of the titles had faded. Hermione inhaled deeply, delighted to encounter the unique scent only musty books could produce. Her eyebrows heightened slightly as she inadvertently caught a whiff of Malfoy's subtle cologne—just as unique and enchanting as the smell of old books.

Draco's cheek was still burning. Although, disturbingly, it was no longer burning due to Pansy's slap; it was tingling in the most pleasant manner from Granger's cool touch. His face twisted into a familiar scowl. He didn't know why he had let that mudblood touch him in the first place. He had been too stunned from her kind gesture to immediately remove her hand as his instincts had screamed at him to. Suddenly, he stopped. They had arrived.

Hermione was too busy ogling her surroundings to notice Malfoy had stopped walking, which caused her to walk right into him. They had been walking quite quickly, so the impact of her head hitting his muscular back knocked her out.

Draco turned around just in time to catch Granger as she fell.

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Surprised, Draco easily lifted Granger in his arms and carried her to the sofa. He couldn't help but appreciate the way her body curved perfectly into his. He couldn't help but inhale the delicious aroma of apples that filled his nostrils due to their proximity. Draco raised an eyebrow; who knew the mudblood could smell this good? When she was settled, he pulled out his wand. Pointing it at the unconscious young woman in front of him, he yelled, "Enervate!"

Granger opened her eyes to see Malfoy pointing his wand straight at her. She opened her mouth to scream, but Malfoy was faster. Sprinting swifter than humanly possible, Malfoy was at her side and covering her mouth with his empty hand before she had taken in half a breath since waking.

"Granger," he hissed dangerously, "I know this looks bad, but you ran into me and fainted."

Hermione's large eyes widened fractionally when she realized Draco's cologne clung to her like an invisible cloak. Thinking the worst, she bit Draco's fingers, knocked his wand from his hand, and slipped from his grasp.

"Ow!" Draco yelped. Granger had bit him! Attempting to soothe the pain, he brought his injured fingers to his hand and sucked on the bite.

This was the perfect opportunity to escape, but the sight in front of her made her freeze in her tracks. Hermione felt something clench inside her. It was incredibly wrong for Draco to put his mouth where hers had just been, yet she was spellbound and couldn't look away.

Draco raised his eyes to hers, startled to see her watching him avidly, unmistakable lust radiating from her big brown eyes. Regaining his composure in record time, he drawled, "Why Granger, I always took you for a non-practicing heterosexual, but if you want to have a go, hey, I'm all yours!"

Draco watched as Granger blushed a fetching red, the lust in her eyes quickly dissipating into thin air. Damn. He had just wasted a perfect opportunity. But a perfect opportunity for what?

The ferret had caught her staring! She shifted uncomfortably under his scrutinizing gaze. Determined not to show just how hot and bothered his words had made her, Hermione pointedly ignored his rude suggestion and took her time to inspect her surroundings. She knew they were still in the library, but other than that, Hermione had no inkling of her present location. The walls of the room they were in were lined with bookshelves sporting thick leather-bound books. The comfortable two-seater she had woken up on was tastefully covered in black velvet. A barren fireplace faced the loveseat, no fire cheerily crackling away. An elegant desk flanked by two comfortable armchairs sat in the middle of the room, books of all sorts haphazardly scattered across its scratched surface.

She turned to look at Malfoy quizzically. He languidly shrugged in response.

He had taken her to his lair.

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